Fallout
by Maryilee
Summary: Takes place immediatly after Fatal Edition. These episodes involved Gary being accused of murder, escaping from jail and trying to find out who was the real murderer. What happened next? What did Gary say to Armstrong and Brigatti? Find out!
1. Chapter 1

These characters don't belong to me, they belong to CBS/Tristar pictures. I'm just borrowing them. On my profile page, you can find a link to a clip from the episode this is based on. It's a short clip (about five minutes). I think the fic also explains it pretty well, but it does so gradually.

Special thanks to peregrin anna for her wonderful beta.

* * *

_"Or what?"_

The words, low-pitched and deceptively calm, wound their way through her memory. Two little words that, on the surface, didn't seem to mean much, but actually told the whole truth. Hobson knew her; perhaps better than anyone else ever had. He knew that she didn't have it in her to shoot a man in the back. That she couldn't shoot_ him_ in the back.

Toni Brigatti tossed and turned in the uncomfortable hospital bed. An IV was taped into her arm to help flush out the overdose of the drug Arberthnot had injected into her. She hadn't wanted to stay in the hospital, but her police captain had insisted. What she really needed to do was to go see Hobson. See if he was really okay. See if there was hate in his eyes when he looked at her. Toni swallowed hard. What if there was? She couldn't blame him. He'd come to her for help and she had turned him away. Worst than that, she had threatened to shoot him.

Their brief history had been fiery and full of antagonism but every moment of it was seared into her memory. She had wanted to believe him so badly, but she couldn't get past the evidence. Years of being a detective had hammered home the importance of looking at the evidence and knowing that when compiling an over-whelming case, well, ninety-nine percent of the time, the suspect was guilty. And, there had been the lie detector test showing a propensity towards deception.

Toni sighed then got up to use the bathroom for about the tenth time in the last few hours. The IV was doing its job very well. She hoped that in a few hours, she'd get rid of the thing and go home. Other than being tired, she felt fine. Looking in the mirror, she grimaced at the circles under her eyes. Even though the drug had made her sleep, it couldn't erase the fatigue from the last three days. She knew if she felt this tired then Hobson must be utterly exhausted. He hadn't said much to her last night when he was waiting for Marissa to arrive at the train yard. He'd held onto his cup of coffee and quietly answered other officers' questions, sometimes, he'd glance her way. He hadn't been close enough for Brigatti to see his expression and she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

When he'd finally approached the ambulance, she couldn't read his expression. Usually, every emotion the guy was feeling would flicker across his face. Even when Toni had felt he was trying to hide something, his eyes gave him away. Not this time though.

"Uh, Brigatti?"

Toni froze. A knot large enough to tie off a cruise liner formed in her gut. Ducking her head, she washed her hands and splashed her face with water. "Just a second!" Quickly, she grabbed a cup and swished some mouthwash around her mouth then dried her face and hands. She took a deep breath, grabbed the IV pole and faced her fate.

"Oh, hey, Hobson. I thought you were the doctor," Brigatti bluffed as she tried her best to muster all the dignity she could while dressed in a backless gown. Casually holding it closed, she climbed in bed, pulling the covers up. She needn't have been so worried about her modesty because Hobson was looking everywhere but at her.

His appearance had improved from last night. The stubble was gone, his dark hair combed, and he was wearing the familiar black leather jacket.

"Ah, no, sorry. I…I just wanted to see how you were doing." Gary fidgeted with some gloves. "I saw Armstrong. He…he said he was going home today. His leg's gonna be fine." His voice was slightly husky and he seemed to find something fascinating to look at near the end of the bed, his eyes only occasionally flickering up to meet hers.

Toni wondered if those were new gloves or if he'd gotten his own back from the police evidence locker. "Yeah, I heard. That's fantastic. Armstrong's a _good_ guy." Toni hadn't intended to emphasize 'good' but somehow it came out that way.

Gary's eyes flew up to meet hers a brief questioning look flitting through them, then looking down, he nodded. "Uh huh." He shoved his hands in the pocket of his coat. "Well, I guess I should be going." He turned to leave.

"Oh." _Brilliant, Toni_, she cursed herself. You should be down on your knees begging his forgiveness, but instead you sit here tongue-tied and let him walk away. "Wait!"

Gary turned, his expression guarded. Brigatti noted a couple of faint bruises along his jaw line.

"If…if you're not too busy, I…I could use a ride home after the doctor discharges me." Brigatti couldn't believe she'd asked him that. She looked down at the blanket covering her lap, her fists balling up bunches of the snow white bedding. The guy had gone through hell the last few days and the last thing he would want to do was to sit around a hospital room and then play taxi. He probably hated her guts.

The silence in the room was broken only by the chatter of the some passing nurses before Gary finally replied, "I…I could do that."

"No, that's okay, you don't have to. I shouldn't have asked. I can just grab a cab or call one of the other detectives." Brigatti shrugged, clutching the mangled bedspread to her chest. "I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do today."

"No, no, it's no problem. _Really_, Brigatti." His voice was firm.

Toni looked up, meeting Gary's eyes. "Thanks."

Gary cleared his throat, breaking eye contact and looked down at his shoes before raising his gaze. "I'm the one who should be thanking you."

She searched Gary's eyes, amazed but not surprised to find nothing but sincerity. "You're something else, Hobson."

"Huh?"

Before she could answer, her doctor breezed into the room. "Ms. Brigatti, your labs all look g…" He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Gary, recognition splashing across his face. "Uh, hello."

Toni saw Hobson stiffen slightly and clench his jaw. She felt regret that the guy was probably the leading news story of the day. She hadn't turned on the television yet, but his escape from the jail had been on all the networks the last few days. News briefs had interrupted scheduled programming whenever there was a reported Hobson sighting so no doubt the ending was also big news. She hoped they emphasized his innocence.

"Hello, Doctor," Gary replied, giving him a level look.

Toni was somewhat surprised at Gary's reaction, or rather; she'd expected his usual shy, bumbling response. "Um…Doctor Freeman, I'd like you to meet my…uh…meet Gary Hobson." Toni didn't know how to classify Hobson. Was he a friend? Or nemesis? Or…what?

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hobson. I'm Murray Freeman." The doctor extended his hand, his manner friendly, but the curiosity in his eyes couldn't be denied. "I saw you in the newspaper."

"Doctor Freeman." Gary shook hands, not replying to the doctor's remark about the news. He quickly withdrew his hand and shoved it back into his pocket. "I'll just…just step out into the hall until you're done." He turned and practically fled the room.

* * *

Leaning back against the wall, Gary closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt like a fool for fleeing the room, but what was there to say, after all? He had already been the subject of several whispered conversations just on his way through the hospital. Some people actually stopped what they were doing and openly stared at him. The attention was intensely uncomfortable for him. He wasn't one to seek attention anyway, but now, it unnerved him. The last two days he'd spent hiding or trying to blend in without attracting any notice at all. His life had depended upon it. Once those instincts were turned on, they were hard to turn off. 

He could feel his palms becoming sweaty. With a sigh; he opened his eyes and glanced around. He pretended not to see the healthcare workers in the hall abruptly turn away from him, finding other things that suddenly needed their full attention. He wondered how long he was going to have to deal with the aftermath.

Gary pushed away from the wall and walked a short way down the hall before turning back and retracing his steps. He continued pacing, trying to stave off the fear still gnawing away at his belly. Even though he'd been beyond exhausted last night, sleep hadn't come easily.

Bits and pieces of the last couple of nights had randomly intruded upon his thoughts-- thoughts that had mostly been filled with Brigatti. One minute, he would flash onto the memory of her look of betrayal when she had told him the results of his lie detector test. The next, he would see her staggering in the train yard. Those memories would then be swept aside by the recollection of standing in spotless kitchen, the scent of orange cleaner lingering in the air, and Brigatti's gun aimed at his chest.

The door to the room opened, banging lightly against the wall. Gary jumped and half-ducked before he could stop himself. Dr. Freeman gave him a startled look, and said, "You can go back in now. Toni says you'll be giving her a ride home?"

Gary's gaze flickered over the doctor's shoulder, settling on Brigatti. She was perched on the side of her bed, her feet dangling a half-foot above the floor. Her toenails were painted a bright red. Who paints their toenails in the middle of winter? In Chicago?

"Uh yeah, that's… that's right," Gary answered distractedly. He wasn't sure he'd ever understand this woman. So tough most of the time, but with a definite softer side that she tried to keep hidden.

"Well, that's good. The nurse will be in shortly to discontinue the IV and then she's free to go."

Gary turned his attention back to the doctor, having forgotten about him for a few seconds. He nodded, giving the doctor a small smile. "Great."

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Hobson. You take care now." Doctor Freeman headed towards the nurses' station.

"Thanks, Doc. You too."

* * *

"I'm not an invalid, Hobson!' Brigatti shrugged off Gary's hand as he helped her into the front seat of McGinty's van. 

"Never thought ya were, Brigatti." Gary shook his head while shutting the door, then walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. "You gotta stop anywhere before I take you home?" Gary nodded towards the prescription clutched in her hand. "You probably should get that filled."

Brigatti looked down at the slip of paper and sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." She glanced at Gary. "You don't mind?"

"No, not at all." Gary pulled out of the hospital parking lot; glad that the paper hadn't had anything that needed his attention. He didn't know if he was up to it today. "Is that pharmacy over there okay?" He nodded towards an upcoming corner drugstore.

"Sure, that's fine. I'll just run in real quick."

"I have a few things I could pick up too." Gary parked and exited the vehicle, holding Brigatti's door as she climbed out. She gave him a baleful look and shook her head but remained silent.

Gary's earlier experience at the hospital had somewhat prepared him for people's reaction when they caught sight of him, but Brigatti seemed shocked at the looks and whispers their presence incited. She looked shaken after one brazen woman approached her asking her how she was feeling. She gave Gary a stricken look before heading to the pharmacy counter.

Gary felt guilty. It was all his fault. He should have never gone to her home or faxed her. If he hadn't, she wouldn't have been sucked into the whole mess and almost gotten killed in the process. He plucked a large bottle of ibuprofen off a shelf and tossed it into the hand basket he had picked up. A loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter followed it in along with a couple of cans of soup and a half-gallon of milk. He caught the stares of a few other customers and defiantly stared back. They had the grace to look away after a few seconds and went about their shopping. Gary sighed, instantly regretting his childish behavior. How was he ever going to carry on with the paper if people recognized him everywhere he went? Seeing Brigatti coming back from the pharmacy, Gary caught her eye and inclined his head towards the checkout.

"Ya got everything?" he asked when she joined him in line.

"Yeah, I think so." She glanced around then spied the newspaper rack holding the Chicago Sun-Times. She started to walk over to it, then hesitated and looked back at Gary.

Seeing her pause and glance at him, Gary guessed the reason. "Go ahead. I already read it," he assured her, ignoring the blatantly nosy looks he was receiving from the young guy behind him in line.

"Must have sucked to be you the last few days," the guy stated, then chuckled as though he'd said something funny. "What's it like to be a fugitive?"

Gary shook his head and started to turn away, but Brigatti wasn't going to let the smart ass off so easily.

"Hey, idiot, you want to find out first hand? I'll even give you a ten-second head start!" Brigatti's dark eyes blazed up at the punk. Gary almost felt sorry for the guy. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that look.

The guy's mouth hung open for a stunned second, then he shrugged. "Whatever."

Brigatti arms were crossed, her mouth still set in a grim line a few minutes later when Gary pulled up in front of her house. "You want to come in? Have a cup of coffee?"

Gary hesitated, not sure if that was such a good idea, but couldn't bring himself to say no. "Sure. Sounds good."

"I can't believe that guy!" Brigatti fumed, still in full rant mode. "Fugitive…he'd be _lucky _to be a damn fugitive if I had anything to say about it." She opened the door, snatching her purse and prescription off the floor of the vehicle.

"Forget it, Brigatti. It's over," Gary said wearily and followed her to the front door.

Brigatti unlocked it and motioned him in ahead of her. "Forget it? Didn't he piss you off?"

Gary felt the muscles in his jaw clench but didn't answer.

She followed him in, tossing her keys and purse on the entryway table. "Come on, I'll start the coffee brewing." She turned the corner to the kitchen.

Gary trailed after her, the gnawing feeling in his stomach returning. The scent of orange cleaner was strong in here. He made a mental note to make sure McGinty's used a lemon or pine scented cleaner. Anything but orange. He sat at the table, his fingers drumming. He shouldn't have come in here. He couldn't help stealing glances at the back door. He remembered facing Brigatti two nights ago, and then turning to leave. He was surprised now to see that the door was only about four feet from where he'd been standing. It had felt like a mile. He had been sure that any second he would feel the slam of a bullet between his shoulder blades. He jumped when Brigatti loudly closed a cabinet.

"…the nerve of that guy. I just wanted to shoot him."

"What? Who?"

Brigatti slammed down the can opener. "Who? That bozo back at the store, that's who!"

Gary jumped up, the chair toppling and whirled towards Brigatti. 'What the _hell_ did you want me to do, Brigatti? Should I have punched the guy's lights out? Beat him to a pulp? Slammed him against a wall? 'Cause I know I sure _wanted_ to." His hands clenched as he backed her against the cupboard. "I wanted to so badly, I could almost _feel _the impact of my fist against his face. But then I'd be everything I fought so hard to prove that I wasn't now wouldn't I? I'd _be_ that guy everyone thought I was!" Gary turned away running his hand through his hair. "I knew this was a bad idea. I gotta go." He pivoted for the front door.

"Hobson! Wait!"

Gary froze. The memory of playing this game before hit him with the impact of a sledgehammer. He turned slowly, half-expecting to see a gun aimed at him. He couldn't stop himself from darting a quick look at her right hand. Her gun hand.

His glance didn't go unnoticed by Brigatti. Her eyes opened wide and she too looked down at her hand then looked up, regret written all over her face. "I…I'm sorry, Hobson."

Gary nodded. He knew she was apologizing for more than the comments she had made a few seconds ago. "Yeah, well, you had your job to do."

He looked away, the feeling of betrayal he'd felt two nights ago resurfacing. He had trusted her; had come to her when he was exhausted, scared and just needed some time to rest and think. She'd done more than just turn him away. She had threatened his freedom. Worse, she'd threatened his life.

"I'm glad you're okay, Brigatti. Good-bye." Gary left, pausing outside for a moment and took a deep breath. The gnawing in his stomach had eased, but had been replaced by a feeling of emptiness. Jamming his hands in his coat pockets, he headed for his car.

At McGinty's, Gary entered through the back door, successfully eluding the throng of reporters hanging around the front entrance. He and Marissa had decided to close the bar for the day in hopes of avoiding a circus atmosphere. In a day or two, some new story would take the spotlight off Gary. At least, he hoped so.

He hung the keys to the van on a hook by the door. Even though they were closed, a few of the employees had come in to help do stock and to straighten up the mess left by the police when they had executed their search warrant. The bar area had been relatively unscathed, but the office was a mess. Files had been pulled, drawers opened, and papers scattered.

Two hours later, Gary had the office in decent shape, but realized he'd need a new lock on his desk . Why had the cops felt they needed to break the lock? The key was right there in the mug of pencils and pens. You'd think that as thorough as they had been with the files, they would have figured that out. He only locked the drawer because it contained the petty cash and an extra set of keys to the van. He slammed it shut.

Upstairs in the loft was more of the same, only worse. Gary's dresser and closet had been trashed. His were clothes left in disarray; socks and underwear hanging out of the top drawer. Gary shoved them back in, embarrassed that someone had gone through his personal belongings. He'd been too tired last night to barely give any of it a glance and this morning, he'd needed to see Brigatti.

Swearing, Gary crossed to his closet. The door hung open and his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. The top shelf was bare, its former contents scattered amongst the clothing. He crouched down and gathered up his high school yearbooks, and a couple of dusty trophies from his years on the football team then replaced them on the shelf. He stooped to pick up the scattered baseball cards he had spent his childhood collecting. Snatching a Bob Feller card that now sported a big crease down the middle, he tossed it into the box with the rest. It had been his dream that one day, he would pass the cards onto a son. He snorted. Like that would ever happen now. Gary shoved the box into the back corner.

"Gary?" Marissa's voice floated up the steps.

"Up here, Marissa!"

Gary quickly cleared a path in the room, throwing the couch cushions back in place and stacking the magazines on the coffee table.

"I see you were in the office," Marissa said, as she carefully made her way into the room, her cane sweeping in front of her as she navigated through the disarray.

"Yeah." Gary cleared his throat. "Watch yourself. This place is a mess."

"I'm sorry, Gary. I tried to stop them but…" Marissa's voice wavered

"There was nothing you could do, Marissa." Gary quickly crossed to her and gave her a warm hug. "You did the best you could, ya know? You were there for me when I needed you and I knew I could count on that." Gary stepped back, but his hand lingered on Marissa's shoulder. "Did I ever thank you?"

Marissa smiled. "I don't know but that hug was a pretty good start."

Gary chuckled. "I've got some soup and peanut butter and jelly. Wanna have some lunch?"

"Sure, but first, I'll help you get things straightened up."

"Sounds like a deal."

An hour later, the loft was presentable again. Marissa had folded Gary's shirts and jeans and replaced them in the dresser while Gary had picked up the contents of a junk drawer that had been dumped on the floor. When he was done, most of the contents had been tossed. He moved to the bookshelves and started replacing books that had been swept onto the floor. The last book he to replace was "Lost Chicago". He hesitated for second, wondering if Lucius Snow had ever had an experience like he had had.

Marissa made the sandwiches while Gary poured the drinks and heated the soup. The scent of peanut butter and chicken noodle soup filled the loft, the smell comforting and familiar. After lunch, Gary flopped onto the sofa, laying his head against the armrest, one leg on the couch, the other foot flat on the floor.

Marissa crossed over and settled in the chair. "Are you okay, Gary?"

Gary sighed. "Yeah, I think so. How about you?"

Marissa's voice hardened. "I was so angry at everybody, Gary. I couldn't understand how anyone could think that you…you murdered Scanlon. I mean, anyone who knows you would know that you could never do something like that."

Gary cocked his head backwards, smiling. "You're a good friend, ya know that, Marissa?" He closed his eyes, trying to forget the last few days. He just wanted the feeling of contentment he felt right now to never end. He was safe and warm in his loft, his belly was full and the paper had given him the day off. He yawned, feeling his limbs growing heavy.


	2. Chapter 2

Thump

_Meow_

"Huh?"

Gary startled awake and almost fell off the couch. Looking around, he saw the bed neatly made, then glanced down to realize he was still fully dressed. "Wow," he muttered, rubbing his hands down his face then scratching his head. He stretched, then tossed the afghan carelessly over the back of the sofa. Feeling more rested than he had in a long time, he crossed to the door and retrieved the paper.

The cat meowed and ran into the kitchen.

"If you're looking for tuna, you're outta luck. I hope you like peanut butter." Gary ambled back to the couch, scanning the front page.

"Looks like the vacation's over." He noted a couple of incidents that needed his attention. The first mishap involved a commuter being hit by a train. The second problem was on the west side of town around mid-morning. A five-year-old boy would be the victim of a dog mauling. Gary grimaced.

Rushing through Union Station a short while later, Gary glanced at the article again.

_"The victim, identified as John Stockman, was hurrying from the North Central line when he strayed too close to the edge of the platform and appeared to lose his balance, a witness said."_

Gary looked around and spotted the schedule board.

Tucking the paper into his back pocket, he hurried towards the correct platform wondering how the hell he was going to find John Stockman amongst the horde of commuters.

The commuters already on the platform were safely boarding the train. He turned towards the people just entering the boarding area.

As he scrutinized the oncoming rush, Gary became aware that he too, was being closely observed by many of the people. Instead of being invisible in the crowd, as he was so used to being, he was receiving sidelong glances, interested looks and outright stares. He saw a few people nudge one another and point towards him. Another guy glanced up from his newspaper and did a double take as he passed.

Gary felt a hot flush creeping up his neck, but tried to ignore the looks and just concentrated on finding the impending victim.

After ten minutes, the train pulled away with no mishaps. Rubbing the back of his neck in confusion, he reached for the paper and turned to the page where the story had been. It was gone.

Surprised, Gary slowly walked back into the station and out towards the street. Hopping into the van, he replayed the whole incident in his mind and couldn't figure out what might have happened to change anything. Heck, he hadn't even identified the guy who would have been hit, let alone done something to prevent it. All he had done was stand there like an idiot and get pointed at. Somehow, that must have been enough to change the outcome.

Gary shook his head and sighed. Well, at least his notoriety had served a purpose. He just hoped it wouldn't continue to play a role in the outcomes of saves. He didn't think that today's result would be the norm.

A short while later, Gary cruised the block where the dog mauling would happen. He hated any saves having to do with kids and animals. Both were so unpredictable, but the thought of a young child being critically injured and scarred for life was more than enough reason to take a risk. Spotting a young boy and his mother walking down the sidewalk, he pulled the van over and headed around to the back of the van, pretending to get something out.

He could hear a dog barking somewhere. Gary quickly inventoried any possible weapons .He thought about a large carving knife, but worried about scaring, or God-forbid, injuring the boy or his mother. Instead, he settled for a long handled, solid stainless steel serving spoon. It wasn't much, but it was a foot long and heavy enough to hopefully discourage the dog.

Hearing a child's voice approaching, Gary turned, praying that this save would be like the last one. His prayers went unanswered when a medium sized, compact but muscular pitbulldashed from in front of the van and across the street. The mother, a slight woman with black hair and Asian features, froze in fear, her hand tightly gripping her son's.

"Watch out!" Gary darted towards the child and mom. A scream rent the air as the mother tried to scoop up her son. As the dog gathered his legs to lunge for the pair, Gary shouted and cracked the dog across the back with the spoon. The dog whirled with a snarl and leaped towards Gary. Throwing his arm up and frantically backpedaling, Gary screamed at the mother, "Get in the van! Now!"

"Arghh!" Gary let out a strangled moan as the dog's vise-like jaws clamped onto his left forearm just below the elbow. He staggered as the weight of the dog almost pulled him down. Instinctively, Gary knew that he had to remain on his feet at all costs; that falling to the ground would leave him vulnerable to the whirling, snarling ball of muscle and teeth.

He beat the dog about the head with the spoon with no effect. He briefly tried using it to pry the jaws open, but couldn't even get an inch of the utensil wedged in the dog's mouth.

In desperation, he used the spoon to stab at the dog's face as hard he could with the handle end. He was aiming for the eye, but missed, landing towards the corner of the dog's left eye.

It was close enough though; the dog released his grip, yelping. Seizing the opportunity, Gary scrambled the few steps backwards to reach the rear door of the van. The door was shut, but not tightly and he was able to swing it open and shut it fast enough to escape the dog, which had quickly recovered from the blow to his eye.

Falling into the back of the van, Gary laid on his back and panted, vaguely aware of the thump of the dog hitting the other side of the door. Trying to ignore the pain in his arm, Gary turned his head towards the mother and boy huddled next to him. "You guys okay?"

The mom nodded while the boy remained wide-eyed and shaking. "Thanks, mister," the woman finally said, her voice quavering.

Gary tried to sit up, then fell back with a moan, clutching his arm. He felt a cold sweat pop out on his body and thought he might throw up.

"Do you have a cell phone?"

Gary just shook his head, eyes tightly shut, teeth gritted too hard to reply.

After a few minutes of uneasy silence, Gary was able to sit up; this time, he bit back the groan. "I'm okay, just give me a second." It seemed like an eternity, but finally, Gary felt his stomach settle enough for him to risk moving.

Running a shaky hand through his hair, he took a deep breath and fished his keys out of his jacket pocket. Rolling over to his knees, left arm firmly clamped across his belly, he stumbled to a crouch and pulled himself into the driver's seat. "I'm…I'm gonna take you two home. When you get in your house, call animal control right away. They need to catch that dog." Seeing the paper lying on the front seat, he gingerly reached for it and, draping it over the steering wheel, flipped to the page where the story had first appeared.

Relieved, he saw that the story was gone.

"What about you?" the mother asked, hugging her son tight. "We can't just leave you to fend for yourself with your arm all bitten up."

Gary shook his head. "What I need for you to do is make sure they find that dog so I don't have to get rabies shots. I'm going to head over to Cook County hospital and have my arm looked at as soon as I drop you off." After getting her address, which was only a few blocks away, he put the keys in the ignition, and with some difficulty, pulled away from the curb.

"What's your name? I'll need to tell them who to look for at the hospital."

Gary sighed. He hadn't thought of that. Reluctantly he answered, "Gary Hobson." He glanced in the review mirror, seeing the mom's eyes widen as they met his.

"You mean…? You're the guy…? Wow." The woman grinned. "Well, boy am I glad you weren't put in jail!"

Gary nodded. "Yeah. Me too"

"And you're much better looking in person than your mugshot." The woman met his eyes in the mirror, an amused smile quirking her lips.

Embarrassed, Gary quickly averted his gaze and then chuckled despite the pain in his arm. "Thanks."


	3. Chapter 3

An animal control officer found him at the hospital and informed Gary that the dog was captured and impounded. The animal didn't have a vaccination history available, so he would be observed for a few weeks. Gary nodded, hoping he wouldn't have to undergo a series of rabies shots. The officer had been mildly interested in Gary's recent history, but before he could ask more than the basic questions, the man was called away. He told Gary he would follow up with him later to complete the report.

Thankful for small favors, Gary rested on the gurney. The staff at the hospital ER was too busy to bother asking any questions other than medical ones. Gary wasn't even sure if they had recognized him. Maybe life _would _get back to normal soon.

Two hours later, his arm bandaged and a prescription for antibiotics and painkillers in hand, Gary drove back towards McGinty's. He was lucky that his jacket had protected his arm somewhat. He had sustained a couple of deep gashes that had taken ten stitches each to close and two deep puncture wounds. An x-ray had not revealed any broken bones, but pressure from the dog's jaws had caused considerable bruising and swelling. He winced as he exited the van, noting that his upper left arm was already getting stiff from the tetanous shot. The bites were still numb from the lidocaine the doctor injected before he stitched the cuts closed.

A photographer jumped out from behind the dumpster in the rear of the building, surprising Gary as he walked towards the back door of McGinty's. His heart hammering, Gary staggered backwards as the flashes went off in his face. "Shit! What the hell…?" He blinked a few times, trying to clear the spots in his vision. "This is my property, you can't be back here!"

"Hey, Hobson! What happened to your arm?" the photographer yelled the question as he backed away from Gary, still snapping pictures.

Ignoring him, Gary entered McGinty's, swearing under his breath. He was glad Marissa was nowhere around when he ducked through the kitchen up to his loft. He changed out of the bloodied flannel shirt he had been wearing and pulled a soft, navy blue turtleneck over his head. He stuck his fingers in the tears decorating the coat's sleeve. Frowning, he then tossed the ruined jacket into a corner. The sofa beckoned but Gary turned towards the door instead. He had a stack of bills awaiting his signature piled on his desk in the office. _Oh joy. _

* * *

Armstrong hobbled out of the cab, hating the awkwardness of having to use crutches. He was glad it was only for a few more days. Ignoring the flashes of several cameras, he tucked a crutch tightly under his arm and pulled the front door of McGinty's open. Pausing to let his eyes adjust to the relative dimness inside, he looked around, glad that the bar was looking back to normal. He had really hated being part of the crew that had gone through the place with a fine-toothed comb. Worse, he had felt terrible having to question Ms. Clark. For some reason whenever he was around her, he felt as though she could see into his soul and found him lacking.

He suppressed a groan when he saw the subject of his thoughts heading his way. The grim set of her mouth alerted him that someone had informed her of his presence already. Her white cane swept rapidly from side to side. It almost appeared as though she was hoping he would be within the arc of the cane.

"Good afternoon, Detective."

"Ms. Clark." Armstrong swallowed hard. He felt like an errant schoolboy in her presence.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Uh, sort of. I want to speak with Hobson. Is he here?"

"Why? Is there some other unsolved murder you want to pin on him?" Marissa's voice was colder than icicles in January.

"No, ma'am. I would just like to speak with him if he's available," Armstrong said, not blaming her for the cool reception.

Sighing, Marissa shook her head. "He's in the office. You should know your way back there by now, though you might not recognize it when papers aren't strewn all over the place."

"Um, right. Have a good day, Ms. Clark."

"Hmph."

Hobbling his way towards the back of the bar and through the doors to the kitchen, he turned left to go to the office.

He paused at the door. It was partially open and he could see Hobson sitting at his desk apparently doing some paperwork. The normalcy of the scene seemed almost out of character in relation to Hobson.

Rapping one knuckle against the door, Armstrong cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

Hobson looked up, his expression neutral. "Hey, Armstrong." He leaned back in the chair, tossing his pen onto a pile of papers and motioned for the detective to enter. "Have a seat. How's the leg?"

"Good. I'll be ditching these crutches in a day or so." Armstrong looked down at his leg, realizing, not for the first time, how lucky he was to escape with such a relatively minor injury. It could have been so much worse. Nothing had been broken, no major blood vessels had been compromised and all in all, he would be left with nothing more than a scar he could tell his grandchildren about someday. He sat in the chair across from the desk, propping his crutches against his good leg.

"That's good," Hobson said, his voice pleasant, as though he were making small talk with a stranger.

"I just wanted to come by and thank you. I still can't believe that my partner was behind the whole thing and I didn't see it." Armstrong shook his head. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did."

Hobson's jaw clenched and he glanced away as though remembering something. He turned back and met Armstrong's gaze, his voice quiet but firm. "You would have been killed."

"What?" Armstrong sat forward, grabbing the crutches when they threatened to topple onto the desk.

Hobson studied Armstrong for several seconds before answering. His face had an expression that Armstrong had never seen on it before. The guy was normally a warm, affable, sometimes flustered man, but now he looked different. Harder. The friendliness that Armstrong was accustomed to seeing was gone.

"If I hadn't been there, you would have died. Brigatti too."

"How do you know?" Armstrong asked, shaken by the conviction in Hobson's expression.

A ghost of a smile flickered across the other man's face and he shook his head slightly. "Do you _really_ want to go into all that again?"

"Dammit, Hobson! Why don't you just tell me the truth?" Armstrong was angry now, all thoughts of gratitude gone for the moment. He was tired of dealing with the mystery that was Hobson. The vague replies, the evasiveness and most of all, not knowing the source of the guy's information. Pointing a finger at Hobson, he bit out, "Did you have something to do with the Scanlon murder after all?"

Hobson jumped up from the desk and leaned forward, his eyes like granite. "Do you really _believe_ that? 'Cause if you do, then I'm never gonna be able to change your mind. Ya see, I don't know what I need to do to prove to you that I'm…I'm _not _a bad guy! What more do I have to do for you? _Die_?"

Armstrong stood too, leaning on the desk for support, his crutches clattering to the floor. "But that wouldn't happen, would it, Hobson? You're too smart for that. You get off on the attention, don't you? I bet you love having all these photographers hanging around." He moved his head forward, his nose inches from the angry bar owner's. "Is that your motive, huh? Fame? Money?"

He knew he hit a nerve when he saw Hobson's fists clench.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Hobson replied, his voice low and harsh. "The_ last _thing I want is to have my personal life splashed all over the news."

The detective saw the anger and frustration written all over Hobson's face and tried to push the advantage. He could _feel_ that the man was about to crack.

Hobson began to turn away but Armstrong was not about to let the guy escape when he was so close to finding answers. He reached out and grabbed Hobson by the arm to stop him. "Answer me!" Armstrong felt a stiff padding under Hobson's sleeve and was startled when the man let out an agonized groan and sank to one knee.

Immediately, Armstrong released him. "_What the hell_?"

* * *

His arm throbbed as the pain flared to a thunderous crescendo. Gary vaguely heard the detective's curse, but was too busy trying to keep the contents of his stomach in place to reply. He felt one knee buckle and tried to stumble back into his office chair. "Shit! Mmmm, damn." He panted, his eyes closed, seeing and feeling only white hot pain behind his closed lids. He felt his chair roll up to the back of his legs, and a hand on his shoulder easing him down. The hand continued to push his shoulder down.

"Keep your head down, Hobson. If you pass out on me, I'll never be able to catch you and you'll do a header onto the wood floor. I do _not_ have time to file paper work on that too."

Gary almost laughed and would have if he had felt it was safe to open his mouth yet. Gradually, the pain eased and he cracked his eyes open. He focused on Armstrong's shiny black shoes, the rubber tip of one crutch an inch or so away from the detective's heel. Drawing a deep breath, Gary slowly sat up. He looked down at his left arm, half-expecting to see a bloody stump and was relieved to see his hand still sticking out of his sleeve. Now that the pain was receding, Gary gingerly eased his sleeve up, exposing the bandage. A few spots of bright red blood decorated the pristine white gauze but otherwise, it looked okay.

"Sorry, man. I didn't know you got hurt the other day. Nobody told me." Armstrong said, all the earlier anger gone from his voice.

Gary glanced up, his expression sheepish. "I didn't. This happened today."

Armstrong gave him a quizzical look while hobbling back to his chair on the other side of the desk. He sat down with a sigh and used his good leg to pull his crutches back within reach. "So, what was it this time?"

"It doesn't matter Armstrong. I'd really rather just forget about it, if you don't mind. I won't give the explanation you want and we'll just end up re-playing this scene. " Gary ran a hand through his hair then brought it down to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Look, I don't think I can deal with that right now."

He felt like crap and tried to suppress a shudder as a chill come over his body. A Vicodin and a warm bed would work wonders. "Uh, so if you're done…uh, done saying whatever it is you wanted to say to me then I hope you don't mind if I excuse myself." Gary stood, trying to hide how shaky he felt.

Armstrong grabbed his crutches. "Someday, I'll find out the truth, Hobson." The detective started to leave, but paused. "I really am sorry though. I didn't intend to hurt you. I only came here to say thanks." Armstrong smiled ruefully and said, " My wife would shoot me if she knew how badly I screwed this up."

Gary laughed. "Well, I won't tell her." Gary walked with Armstrong out towards the bar area. "At least, not yet."

Armstrong grinned. "That could be construed as blackmail, Hobson." He stopped in the entranceway.

"Yeah, well ya never know when information like that could come in handy."

"You're cruel. You know my wife has soft spot for you. In fact, I was supposed to invite you over for dinner after I got done thanking you."

Gary reached around Armstrong and opened the door for him, grimacing as a couple of photographers raised their cameras. "I…I'm not sure that would be a good idea right now, but tell her thank you for me, would ya?"

Armstrong nodded. "Sure." He maneuvered one crutch tightly under his arm so he could extend his hand. "Thanks again, Hobson."

Gary looked him in the eye, feeling like they had come to some sort of truce. He clasped the detective's hand. "You're welcome, Armstrong."


	4. Chapter 4

"Yo! Brigatti!"

Toni startled and swiveled her desk chair to the right, barely batting away a balled up piece of paper heading towards her face. "Oh, real adult of you, Winslow." Shaking her head, she glared at the blond detective heading her way. "Do you need something or are you just unable to control your inner child?"

"Haha, very funny. Can I help it if you're daydreaming at your desk and didn't hear me call your name the first three times?" the detective smirked, leaning one hip on Toni's desk.

Feeling a blush creep up her neck, Brigatti leaned back in her chair. "I was _not_ daydreaming, Winslow. I was _thinking_." She glared pointedly at the man's hip; one eyebrow arched but the detective ignored her look.

"Well, don't exhaust yourself with the effort, Brigatti," Winslow said while he sorted through her cup of pens on the corner of the desk. Finding a nice fat one, he grinned and tucked it into his shirt pocket. Rolling her eyes, Toni began to leaf through some papers on the desk but stilled at Winslow's next comment. "I heard your buddy Hobson is stirring up trouble again."

Slowly looking up, Toni tried to appear casual as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. "What do you mean?"

The young detective shrugged. "I have a friend in animal control. He told me that earlier today they had a call about a dog attack. Seems like a mom and her kid were about to be attacked by a pit-bull when Hobson, who just happened to be getting out of his vehicle right there, intervened and saved the day."

"So how is that stirring up trouble?"

Winslow leaned forward. "Come on, Brigatti. He just _happened _to be there?" Shaking his head, he stood. "Maybe Scanlon was on to something after all."

Toni threw an angry look at Winslow. "Scanlon wasn't on to anything, Winslow. Hobson's just a...a... good Samaritan. A…a boy scout."

"Of course he is."

"Whatever," Toni said, waving her hand dismissively. "I have tons of paperwork to catch up on. Why don't you go find something useful to do and quit bugging me. "

"Don't worry; my shift is over. I'm outta here!" Chuckling, Winslow left.

Barely waiting until the man was out of sight, Toni pulled out her Rolodex and looked up the extension for animal control.

Trying to seem casual, Toni inquired about the incident. The animal control officer now on duty only had sketchy details as the report hadn't been completed. Toni offered to finish up the report, saying she had to go ask Hobson a few questions regarding another incident. The other officer jumped at the offer.

_You're nuts, Toni. As if you don't have enough of your own paperwork to do, you go and volunteer to do the follow-up for the animal control people. _Toni shook her head and took a last swig from her coffee cup then tossed it in the garbage. _The last person he wants to see is you. _Grabbing her purse and keys, Toni left the station.

She thought about how they had parted yesterday. Hobson's goodbye had had a ring of finality to it. Like he was saying _Have a nice life, Brigatti_. She tried to tell herself that she was only going over to finish the report in order to do a fellow officer a favor, but she knew she was only kidding herself.

* * *

Pulling up in front of McGinty's, Toni couldn't resist peeking in the visor mirror. She tucked her hair behind one ear, then flipped the visor back up, annoyed at herself. _Jeez, Toni, you're only going to get a statement from the guy. It's no big deal, just police business. _Grabbing the file folder she had picked up from animal control, she skimmed its contents, concern furrowing her brow when she saw that Hobson had been seen in the ER. Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach, she took a deep breath and exited the vehicle. She tried to slip past the photographers who seemed to have materialized out of thin air. Apparently they had recognized her. She muttered a brisk "No comment" when a microphone was thrust into her face, and avoiding the other reporters, she stepped into the bar. 

Toni paused inside the door and surveyed the room. It looked like the publicity from the last few days had been good for business, she thought wryly as she noted the crowded bar. For early evening, it was busy. She was about to stop a passing waitress to inquire about Hobson's whereabouts when she spotted him in a large group by the bar. He appeared to be in one piece, she was relieved to note.

He had his head lowered, shaking it, but laughing at the same time. Curious, Toni started making her way towards the bar. She couldn't remember ever seeing him laugh like that. Shoot, every time she saw him, it was in the middle of the crisis of the week.

She lost sight of Hobson as the crowd shifted a bit, but she was able to hear him say, "Yeah, well, I really appreciate all you guys stopping by. I…I can't believe you all took the time…and well, it means a lot to me."

Elbowing her way forward, Toni was able to get a little closer. She spied Hobson leaning back against the bar, his right elbow leaning on top of it. The people around him seemed to come from all walks of life. Some were dressed as if they had just come from the office; others were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Toni had never seen any of them before.

"Hey, I don't know about these guys, but it's da least I can do since you saved my kiester last year." An older gentleman raised his beer. "To Gary Hobson!"

Many in the crowd were nodding their heads, some calling out agreement. Toni noticed Gary duck his head, his face turning red. She had to smile at his obvious embarrassment.

"Yeah, man. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead by now. Though I sure didn't like it when you told me I couldn't play basketball any more. Man, I liked to kill you about then!" The man smiled to take the edge off the words.

Toni turned to the speaker, a tall young black man, and wondered what he was referring to. When she turned back, Hobson was speaking to a man and woman on his left. She wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, but saw the man stick out his hand. Hobson shifted a little to shake hands with the man. Nodding, Hobson smiled and said something, giving the woman a friendly wink. Before Toni could get over her surprise at that, the woman stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. The couple turned to leave. Hobson watched them, a relaxed smile on his face.

As though feeling her gaze upon him, Hobson turned, his eyes finding hers instantly. The smile faded. A look of wariness replaced it. His eyes never left her as she twisted and turned to get through the throng of people.

"Hey, Hobson."

"Brigatti." A short nod.

"This is quite a crowd you got here," Toni said, looking around the room.

Gary gazed around the room too. "Mmmm. Yeah, that it is."

"It's seems like they're pretty good friends of yours."

"Sorta."

"Um. Is there somewhere we could go talk, Hobson?"

"'Bout what?"

Toni sighed. This wasn't going as she had hoped. "I, uh, I just need to ask you a few questions about the incident today with the dog."

He crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised. "Isn't that a bit out of your area of expertise?"

"A little," she conceded, "but a report is a report."

"How come the animal control officer isn't doing the follow up? I figured I'd go down to the station tomorrow and finish it then."

"Well? See? I saved you the trouble," Toni said lightly.

"Fine." Gary tilted his head towards the kitchen doors. "Let's go into the office where it's a little quieter."

Toni followed him, the din of the kitchen almost louder than the bar. Before heading into the office, Hobson approached one of the cooks. "Ya got any extra burgers cooking?"

The cook nodded. "Sure, boss."

Hobson turned to Brigatti. "Ya hungry?"

She shook her head, though her mouth practically watered at the smell from the burgers on the grill.

"Look, Brigatti, I'm starving, and I don't really want to chow down in front of you."

"Okay, whatever. A burger sounds fine."

Hobson nodded and held up two fingers to the cook, then pointed into his office.

Gary closed the door behind them; the sudden quiet a relief after the all the noise. He motioned to a chair in front of the desk. "I'll be right back. I'm just gonna grab a drink. What can I get you?"

"Anything diet would be great. Thanks."

Toni sat idly for a few minutes, studying the pictures on the wall. The desk was strewn with papers and she reached over, intending to clear a small area for them to eat. She glanced at a couple of them, amused at Hobson's nearly illegible scrawl across the bottom of some. Mostly, they appeared to be invoices, a few bills and letters from vendors.

"Find anything interesting?"

Toni jumped back, almost toppling her chair in her haste.

Hobson entered bearing a tray loaded with a drinks and two hamburger baskets with chips.

"I was just, uh…um..." At a loss for words, she finally just shrugged, giving an impish smile. "Sorry. I'm just being nosy. It's the detective in me."

"Uh huh." He didn't seem amused as he handed her a basket and set her drink on her right. "It's Diet Coke."

"Thanks." She began to eat; glad she had taken Hobson up on her offer. She hadn't realized how hungry she was.

Hobson ignored his dinner and instead began putting away his business papers, slapping invoices in one folder, bills in another.

She swallowed a bite of burger. "Hobson, you don't have to put all that stuff away. I said I was sorry I was looking at it. I was bored."

He glanced at her, but continued straightening the desktop.

"Listen, I have a very short attentions span. What can I say?" she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Hobson braced both arms on the desk, looking down for a few seconds. "No! You listen, Brigatti! I have just had my whole life splashed across the front pages and all over the news." He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. "My _phones_ were wired. My _parents'_ phones were tapped. Even Chuck. _Chuck!_ Way out in _Hollywood_ was questioned!" Hardly pausing to take a breath, he continued, pointing one finger at Brigatti. "And one of my dearest friends in the world had to sit here while _your _officers ransacked my home and my place of business. So,_ forgive_ me, will ya, if I don't turn cartwheels while you paw through my stuff!"

He sat heavily, his right thumb and first two fingers rubbing his eyes.

Toni was too stunned to move for several seconds. Recovering, she pushed her basket away and stood. "I said I was sorry, Hobson." She started to head for the door, but turned back. "And for your information, I was not _pawing_ through your papers! I was trying to make room for us to eat! And so _what_ if I happened to see your signature and stopped to wonder how anybody could possibly even_ read_ it!" She turned towards the door, but paused, her back to Gary.

"I'll drop the file off with animal control. You can go see them in the next day or so to finish the report."

Hobson sighed. "Wait, Brigatti."

Toni's pride told her to keep on walking right on through the door, but she turned towards him, arms crossed, chin raised. "Yeah?"

He stood, gesturing towards the chair she had vacated. "Please sit. I'm sorry for…for going off like that."

Toni didn't answer right away, her stubborn pride warring with her foolish attraction to Hobson. Her glance flicked to Hobson and she groaned silently. Damn him and his puppy dog eyes!

"Please?" He reached over and pushed her meal closer to her side of the desk. His gaze raised to hers, pleading.

"Fine." She sat, but couldn't bring herself to eat the burger.

"I _am_ sorry, Brigatti. I…I guess I just…just. Aw, hell. I don't have any excuses." Hobson's elbows were propped on the desk, the heels of his hands rubbing his eyes. Dropping his hands, he began to pick at his dinner. "I've been acting like an ass ever since you got here." His eyes lifted briefly.

Toni's anger melted away. She guessed if anyone had a reason to be stressed, it was Hobson. "Yeah, you have, Hobson but I'm starving and you won't drive me away from a free meal that easily." She picked up her burger and took a big bite.

He smiled, then chuckled and popped a chip in his mouth.

They ate, making only small talk; each being careful to keep the tone light.

Toni took a sip of her drink and noted Hobson absently rubbing his left shoulder. "Is that where you got bit?" She pointed her chin towards his shoulder.

Hobson looked at his shoulder, still rubbing it. "No, that's where I got the tetanus shot." He grimaced and rolled his left sleeve back. "He bit me down here." Examining the bandage, he made a face at the dried blood staining a large portion of it. He pulled his sleeve down and sipped his drink. "Are you done eating?"

Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door.

"Ah, excuse me, Mr. Hobson?"

A man Toni recognized as the bartender poked his head in the office.

"What do you need, Tom?"

Tom looked uncomfortable. "There's a couple of reporters out here looking for you."

Hobson's eyes darted beyond the man. "What did you tell 'em?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Tom shrugged. "I just told them you were busy."

Hobson nodded. "Okay. Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem, boss."

After he left, Hobson sat for a moment, his mouth cupped between his thumb and first finger of his right hand, lost in thought. He stood and crossed to the door taking a quick peek towards the bar. "Uh, Brigatti? Do you mind if we finish that report upstairs?"

Toni shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me, Hobson."


	5. Chapter 5

"Just a…just have a seat, Brigatti," Hobson said as he opened the door to his loft and motioned towards the sofa.

Toni stepped into the room, but hesitated. "It might be easier if we sat at the table. There are several papers that need to be filled out."

Hobson scratched the back of his head. "Uh, yeah, that's fine. I just need to... need to change the bandage." He nodded towards the bathroom.

"Oh! Okay, um," Toni rummaged around in her purse, pulling out a small camera "I have to get a picture of the wound so don't re-bandage it yet."

Hobson's eyes widened as he looked at the camera. "A picture? It's... it's kind of nasty looking."

Toni smiled. "Don't worry, Hobson. I've seen a lot worse."

Hobson's eyes met hers. "Right. Well, I'll just be a sec."

Toni sat on the sofa and put a fresh roll of film in the camera. Picking up the file folder from the coffee table, she perused the partial report; trying to picture in her head what had happened.

Why had she volunteered to do this? From past experience, she knew that Hobson would have vague answers when questioned. Of course, this was a dog bite and Hobson didn't own any dogs, so Toni was pretty sure there was no way Hobson could have had any type of negative involvement in the attack. Not that she really thought he might, but she was so tired of hearing the accusations from others on the police force. Couldn't they see what she saw? A guy who, somehow, seemed to find ways to help others. Setting the camera down on the table, she folded her arms and sat back. She thought about the conversations that she had overheard downstairs. She had only heard bits and pieces, to be sure, but she had heard enough to fill in a few pieces of the puzzle that was Gary Hobson.

The bathroom door opened and the subject of her thoughts stepped into the room dabbing at his left arm with a washcloth.

Toni glanced down at the wounded arm and did a double take. "Whoa, Hobson! You're not kidding. That does look pretty nasty." She grimaced and motioned him to come closer. His arm appeared swollen and badly bruised. Several bloody cuts and a couple of gouges and puncture marks wrapped around his forearm from the inside around almost to his elbow. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Here, let's go over by the lamp so there's more light."

"What do you need pictures for?" Hobson walked over to the lamp and stood with his arm out, turning it slightly to get it into the light better. He traced one of the cuts with his finger, wincing.

"Honestly, I don't know for sure, since it's not my area. I imagine it'll go in the file and if this particular dog ever bites someone again, then it would probably be destroyed since this bite is more than a little nip."

"Why are_ you _doing the follow up anyway?"

Toni snapped a few pictures of the wounds, stalling while she thought of a good reason why she _was _doing this. "Why? Ya got a problem with me helping out a fellow officer?"

Hobson looked up from his arm, one eyebrow raised. "Is that all you're doing? Helping out a co-worker, Brigatti?"

Toni lowered the camera and fumbled with the settings. "Sure," she shrugged. "That, and since you're a friend and all, I figured I could come to you and save you a trip to the station in the morning."

Hobson took a few steps forward, stopping only a couple of feet in front of Toni and said softly, "_Are_ we friends, Brigatti?"

Her hands stilled on the camera and she could feel her heart hammering. Tossing her head, she looked up at him briefly before striding over to the sofa to put the camera away, throwing her reply over her shoulder as she went. "Well, of course we are, Hobson. You and I have been through a lot together."

After a long pause, she heard him mutter something about "to hell and back" and then his footsteps retreated to the bathroom. After a few minutes, she heard cabinets opening and shutting and a couple of bitten off curses. She winced at a loud thump followed by one especially strong expletive.

Tentatively, she moved over to the bathroom door and knocked. "Uh, Hobson? You need some help or something?"

She stepped back in surprise when the door flew open.

"If we're friends, how come you never call me _Gary_? It's always _Hobson_ this and _Hobson _that." He stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed and gauze sloppily wrapped around his left forearm, the roll in his right hand. Transferring the gauze to his left hand, he brushed by her; headed into the kitchen where he began opening drawers and cabinets, rummaging around for a few seconds then slamming them shut.

Toni trailed after him and leaned against the fridge, crossing her arms. "You never call me by my first name either, _Hobson_."

Hobson paused mid-rummage and looked up. "Yeah, well, I think it's about time I did, _Toni_." With a final slam, he ducked his head and swiped his forehead on his shoulder, then sighed. _"Dammit!"_

Toni frowned, then straightening, she said, "What are you looking for? Maybe I can help." She noticed a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead and he looked a little flushed.

"I just…I can't find any tape! I forgot to buy some and this stupid gauze is about a mile long and I can't find my scissors either and I…"

"Whoa! Slow down…Gary." Ignoring the look of surprise on his face, she took him by the arm and led him to the sofa. "Sit down. I'll find something to cut the gauze and then just tie it, okay?"

It didn't take Toni long to find a sharp knife and return to the couch. Setting the knife down on the coffee table, she reached for Gary's injured arm. "I think I'll just start all over," she said, as she unwound the bandage that Gary had applied earlier.

Gary nodded. "So, it's Gary now?" His voice was low and Toni was close enough to smell his aftershave. The scent was clean with a hint of spice.

"Sure, why not? I just get so used to calling everyone by their last name, it sometimes doesn't occur to me to use their first." Toni carefully laid the gauze on his arm and Gary held it in place while she wrapped it. "At the station, it's just easier to use last names. There's so many Mikes and Bills that it can get confusing otherwise."

Toni risked a glance at his face; trying not to think about the other time they had been in a similar situation. The time she had almost fallen to her death from the top of the building. Gary had sustained a mild scrape on the inside of his wrist. She wondered if Gary remembered it and what had almost happened.

"Yeah. I guess it could get confusing."

Toni quickly looked back up to see if he was being sarcastic and felt her hair brush his face. His expression was anything but sarcastic. His eyes appeared darker, more intense and focused on her lips. Flustered, Toni fumbled for the knife to cut the gauze and realized she probably should have cut it before wrapping his arm. Carefully sawing through the material, she tied the ends together then lightly patted the bandage, her hand lingering for a second. "There you go, Hobs…er…Gary."

She started to draw her hand back, but Gary captured it with his good hand. "Thanks, Toni."

She stood and darted a fleeting look at Gary's eyes. She wasn't sure if he was thanking her for the little bit of first aid she had rendered or for calling him by his first name. "You're welcome." She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear as she ducked her head. The strands came loose almost immediately but before she could tend to them, Gary stood and gently placed them back behind her ear.

She shivered.

His hand lingered, barely grazing her jaw as his other hand performed the same service on the opposite side of her head.

Feeling his fingers slide under her hair and slip towards the back of her head, Toni couldn't help letting her head fall back. Gary's thumbs lightly traced her jaw-line. Toni sighed, closing her eyes before slowly opening them to meet Gary's heated gaze; his face only inches from her own.

"I'm not expecting any phone calls," he whispered.

He did remember! Licking her lips, she shook her head. "Me neither." She wondered if that even made sense, but didn't really care as he lowered his mouth to hers. She let her eyes slide shut, then felt a feather light kiss on the corner of her mouth. Turning, she opened her mouth slightly. He smelled of soap and aftershave and some unnamed scent that she thought should be bottled if it wasn't already.

Gary dropped his right arm down to her back; his other hand still buried in Toni's hair and pulled her closer. Toni's hands rose to rest on his chest; his shirt felt soft and warm beneath her palms. His lips gently explored hers, the kiss deepening.

Toni knew she should stop this, but her body had other ideas. As if of their own accord, her hands moved up to wrap around Gary's neck, her fingers feathering the soft hair at the nape. A thrill shot through her when she felt a shudder ripple through Gary's body.

His hand traced delicious circles up and down her back, pulling her closer. Tentatively, his tongue probed and she responded with an inquiry of her own. Her breathing quickened.

Gary withdrew his mouth, but remained in the embrace, his forehead resting against her hairline, his breathing rapid. He drew his hands forward to cup her face. "Wow."

She felt his breath whisper through her hair. "Yeah. That wasn't half-bad, Hobson." She meant for it come out light-hearted, but her tone was harder than she intended.

Gary pulled back a puzzled look on his face, his arms dropping to drape on her shoulders. When Toni attempted to avoid his gaze, he bent his knees so that his head was below hers and looked up into her face. "Toni?"

Toni ducked under his arms and turned away, her emotions in turmoil. Her lips still tingled and she raised one hand and fingered them lightly. Wonderingly. The back of her head still felt the phantom heat and pressure from Gary's hand. The kiss had been incredible. That terrified her.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back and pasted a smile on her face then pointed to the forgotten report forms still laying on the coffee table. "I guess I should finish that report. It shouldn't take too much longer."

Gary looked blankly at the forms then back to Toni. A look of disbelief swept over his face when if finally registered that the moment was over. "What? Toni? Did…did I do something, wrong? I, uh, I thought…well, it seemed like, well, like you wanted the kiss too." Disbelief had been replaced by frustration and confusion. "I don't get it, Brigatti! You run hot then cold, then hot again and I don't know if it's something I say or…or do that drives you away." He swept a hand through his hair, and then took a step closer, his hands reaching towards her. "You feel it too. I _know _you do. We've had a..a connection or chemistry or whatever you want to call it since the first time we met. Don't deny it."

Toni knew what he said was true. She couldn't tell him why she pulled back because even _she _didn't know what made her do it. Toni turned away, trying not to see the hurt in Gary's eyes, and slumped down on the sofa, burying her face in her hands, elbows propped on her knees. "I'm sorry, Hobson."

She felt the cushion sink as he sat down beside her. "Could you at least call me Gary while you stomp on my ego?"

She could hear the forced lightness in his voice as he tried to take the sting out of the words. His pain still seeped through though and she felt her insides twist. "Okay. I'm sorry, _Gary_."

"That's it? No explanation?" There was a slight pause. "Do I stink? Do I have bad breath?"

She heard him exhale into his hand and then sniff. Toni snorted, unable to stop the smile that came to her lips. She raised her head a little; resting her chin on her clasped hands and slanted a glance at Gary. "No, Gary. You don't _stink_. You smell…good." God, did he smell good! "It's just, well, there are things about me you don't know."


	6. Chapter 6

"Well, sure. Of course there are things I don't know about you." Gary dropped his gaze, looking away from Toni. "Just like there are things, uh, things about me you don't know. But…but I'd like to get to know you better."

Toni arched an eyebrow in Gary's direction. "I'll just bet you do."

He leaned back and put his hands up. "Not like that!" Then he thought for second. "Okay, well, yeah, like _that, _but not just…_just that."_ His face felt warm and he wondered if he was blushing. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Gary, it's not you, it's me. I'm just not ready for a relationship." She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "I'm not the kind of woman you need."

Gary remained still for a long moment, digesting that comment. Abruptly, he jumped up and grabbed the knife and what was left of the gauze, putting them away in the bathroom. He stood there for a moment, hands on either side of the sink, head hanging down. How in the hell would she know what kind of woman he needed? He knew a platitude when he heard one. Who was he kidding? Of course she wouldn't want him. He had been nothing but trouble to her since they had met.

He sighed and closed his eyes. His arm was beginning to throb and the ibuprofen he'd taken earlier to take the edge off the pain had worn off. Opening the medicine cabinet, he began to grab the ibuprofen, but chose the prescription bottle of Vicodin instead. He shook one out and swallowed it with a handful of water.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, he walked back to the sofa and nodded towards the papers "Okay, let's get this…this stuff over with."

Toni stood, facing him. Her eyes were wide. "I'm sorry, Gary."

Gary shrugged. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I guess I mis-read the signals. I'm sorry I kissed you." He plopped onto the chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Her voice was low, almost inaudible. "No."

He dropped his hands down, pausing. "What?"

Toni sat and perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands fidgeted, repeatedly twisting a ring on her right hand. "I said, no, you didn't mis-read the signals. And…and don't be sorry about…about the kiss." She glanced quickly at him then focused on her hands again. She took a deep breath. "You're just…just too good to be true."

Gary's hands fell all the way to his lap, and he shook his head in confusion. "What the hell does that mean?"

Toni's gaze darted around the room before it settled on him. "I guess I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You're a guy who is always trying to help somebody, whether they deserve it or not." She lowered her gaze, staring at the table. Her voice became quiet. "My dad was like that."

"Was?"

Toni looked up briefly. "He died about three years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

There was a long moment when neither of them spoke. Gary didn't know what to say, and Toni seemed lost in her thoughts. Her hair had fallen forward, concealing most of her face, and Gary's hand just itched to reach over and sweep it out of the way.

"He was my hero." Toni tucked the lock of hair behind her ear. Gary's hand still longed to touch it anyway. "He was a cop in New York and sometimes he'd take me down to the precinct house. Everyone liked him. He was always ready to help a fellow officer. If someone was injured or sick, he'd be the first to organize a benefit or anything else that might help." Toni gave a small smile. "I even remember him getting all of us kids to donate one of our Christmas presents to another family. We were pretty reluctant," the smile widened and she glanced at Gary, "but the other family, a fellow officer's family, had fallen on some hard times. Dad dressed up like Santa Claus on Christmas Eve and delivered our gifts along with all the makings of a Christmas dinner. He never did reveal who he was. He didn't want to embarrass the man or make him feel awkward when they worked together."

"It sounds like he was a great guy." Gary leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees, his hands dangling and loosely clasped.

Nodding, she continued, "I was the baby of five kids. My three brothers went into the Marines and two came out and became cops too. The other is still in. Dad was so proud. My sister got a scholarship and became a teacher. He would just beam when he talked about her to the other officers. And me. Well, I wanted to make him extra proud, so I studied criminology and after graduating college, I enrolled in the Police Academy, then went on to train to become a Federal Marshal."

Gary smiled when she glanced his way. "It sounds like you have a fantastic family." She was right; she was all wrong for him. She deserved somebody who could give her the kind of stability she grew up with. He tried to swallow the lump of disappointment. "He must have been a wonderful father."

Toni smiled. "Yeah, he was. I never saw him so proud as when he attended my graduation." She paused, the smile evaporating. "That's what made it so hard to believe when he was fired for accepting bribes a year later."

Gary was stunned. What could he say? "It must have been a mistake, Toni."

Shaking her head, "No. No, it wasn't a mistake. He pled guilty to charges against him. He was sentenced to two years in prison, a large fine and, of course, he lost his job."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It was my fault. You know, it never occurred to me that Dad couldn't afford to pay for me to go to college. He never let on. In fact, he always encouraged me because that was the kind of guy he was." Toni sighed. "I guess at first, he took out a second mortgage, but that wasn't enough. My mom had some health problems and doctor bills were piling up so when another officer introduced him to a guy who would give Dad a side job doing private security for him, he jumped at the chance. A few months later, Dad saw some questionable dealings and, I guess he was unsure what to do. The other cop convinced him it was nothing and before he could decide, there was a large bonus on his check. Eventually, it carried over to when he was on duty too."

She sat back, rubbing her hands over her face. "So, anyway, that's why I'm all wrong for you."

Gary was lost. What did any of this have to with him? With them? Then it dawned on him. Of course! She couldn't trust him. If you can't trust your dad to be the person you thought he was, who _could_ you trust? In addition, it wasn't as if Gary had given her any reason to trust him. Not with everything that had gone on. The lie detector test alone would be enough to make anybody doubt him. He stood and walked over to the large windows, unable to look at her just yet. He understood her reasons. He really did. But that didn't stop him from feeling like a giant hand was squeezing his heart.

He leaned one arm against the window frame, absently noting the lights from the Sears Tower soaring into the night sky. Cars honked and people on the street walked quickly, with heads bent against the cold November wind. The orange light cast from the street lamps lent the scene a surreal quality. Or maybe it was just the Vicodin he took earlier.

The sound of rustling papers drew his attention towards the sofa and Toni. She was gathering the forms and tucking them back into the folder. "Wha…what are you doing?"

Starting, she looked at him then down to the file. "I…uh…thought I should probably get going. This wasn't such a good idea, I guess."

"Look, you're here already. We might as well finish this up." He rubbed the back of his neck; feeling like it was more than just the paperwork being finalized. His feet felt heavy as he trudged back to the couch, sinking down on the cushions.

Mechanically, he recited the details of the dog attack with Toni asking for occasional details.

Quirking one eyebrow, she gave him a look of disbelief. " A _spoon, _Hobson_?"_

He just shrugged. " It was a big spoon."

Done, he leaned back, his right arm flung over his eyes.

"So, what took you to the neighborhood where the attack occurred?"

He peeked out from beneath his arm. "Is that question actually on the form?" He couldn't understand why that would be anyone's business.

Toni had the grace to blush. "No. I'm just curious is all."

Gary dropped his arm, but allowed his body to remain limp against the couch. His limbs felt leaden. He could tell her that he was just going for drive, or that he was going to see a customer about a potential catering job. Hell, he could say he was going to buy a couple of crack rocks. What difference would it make? She had issues with trust and he and problems with telling the truth. What a pair they were.

He rolled his head to look at Toni. "Listen, I could tell you tell you why, but I doubt you'd believe me, and I'm so _tired_ of…of making up something that will sound more believable than the truth, so, let's just not go there."

Toni put the forms away for the second time. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why wouldn't I believe the truth?"

Gary pinched the bridge of his nose, a smile lurking on his lips. "Why wouldn't you…have… have you already forgotten my _'propensity for deception'_?"

"No." Her voice was quiet. "And I don't understand." She raised questioning eyes to Gary.

He was quiet for a moment; thinking about how she had opened up to him. He owed her the same except past experience had made him wary. He sat forward, his right elbow propped on his knee, his chin resting on his palm. His head hurt.

He remembered the betrayal he had felt when Meredith had tried to use the paper to further her career as a reporter. And Erica. Well, she hadn't been much better. At first, she didn't believe him and then, she had left because she couldn't handle it. She hadn't even said good-by except in a note. The thought of telling Toni terrified him.

"Understand?" Gary stumbled to his feet, almost tripping over the coffee table. "Hell, I don't understand so I know you won't!"

He began pacing behind the sofa. "I want to tell you so bad it _hurts." _

"Tell me what?" Toni had turned to watch him pace, her arm lying on the back of the sofa.

Gary stopped pacing and opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when doubt blasted its way into his mind. Would she believe him? Maybe. Or maybe she'd think he was nuts and go flying out the door so fast his head would spin. Toni dealt with cold, hard facts, not mystical cats and magical newspapers.

He could feel her watching him. She had reclined with her back against the arm of the sofa, a curious look on her face.

_Would she believe him?_

She had believed him about the Scanlon murder. Okay, not right away, but eventually. Well, really it was the evidence that had convinced her. It wasn't him; it was the facts, nothing more. But a small voice deep down in his soul suddenly blurted out, "_But she wouldn't have even looked at the facts if she hadn't believe in you!"_

He froze as the realization hit him. _She __believed__ in him!_

Deep down, below all the logic and rational thinking, she had found the truth and followed her instincts.

Gary turned to Toni. "Do you want to hear something incredible but true?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, coming from you, I'll believe it's crazy, not so sure about the true part," Toni said from her seat on the sofa. She had been watching Gary with interest. Her detective instincts had honed in on his body language. She'd seen similar habits in many interrogations. First, the suspect would fidget, or in this case, pace, then they would begin to weigh their options. At that point, she had learned that patience had its rewards and she was usually able to elicit a confession from the suspect.

Of course, Gary was no suspect and this was not a case, but all the signs were there of a man about to confess.

Gary ignored her jibe and ran his hand through his hair, stopping to scratch the back of his head. "I'm serious, Toni." He came around the end of the sofa and sat on the chair. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and rested his mouth against the thumbs of his clasped hands. It looked almost as if he were praying. His eyes met hers and he held her gaze for a long moment.

Toni felt the first prickling of apprehension. Whatever it was he had to say must be important to him. She couldn't remember ever seeing him look more serious. "What is it, Gary?"

"This, ah, this is gonna sound real crazy but you hafta believe me. I swear to God what I'm gonna say is true." He dropped his hands and wiped them along the tops of his thighs several times.

"Spit it out, Hobson." She didn't know why, but she felt afraid of what he was going to say. Maybe it was because he looked so nervous.

"Uh, yeah, okay." He scrubbed his hands down his face and sighed. "I get tomorrow's newspaper."

Whatever it was she was afraid he'd say, this certainly wasn't it. It didn't even make sense. Lots of people got tomorrow's paper. Heck, she usually picked up the Sunday edition of the Tribune on Saturday night. She liked to look at all the sales ads. Toni never could understand Gary's obsession with the Sun-Times. The Chicago Tribune was a much more substantial paper.

"So? I've been known to buy it the evening before too. What's the big deal?"

Gary shook his head. "No, I get the paper a whole _day_ before everyone else, ya understand? I…I get it before a lot of the stuff in it has even _happened_."

Toni shook her head, totally confused. "No. I don't understand."

Gary hopped up from his seat and grabbed a newspaper from the top of the refrigerator. Flipping through the pages, he hurried back to show Toni the front page.

He set the paper on the coffee table and pointed out the date. "See? This is _tomorrow's _date. This is _**tomorrow's**_ newspaper." He looked at her, his expression hopeful.

Toni leaned forward and saw that the date was indeed, tomorrow's date, but she still didn't understand the significance. It could be a mis-print. Or even a joke paper, though she didn't think that was the case. It looked too real and the articles she saw on the front page looked like real news stories.

Gary sank onto the chair and turned to a section several pages back. "See? This picture was taken when I got back from the hospital this afternoon."

Toni pulled back in surprise at a large picture of Gary came into view. The rips in his jacket and some bloodied flaps from his shirtsleeve were evident. She picked the paper up to read the accompanying headline and article.

_"Fugitive turned hero. --Gary Hobson, the local bar owner who was a fugitive just a few days ago, before being cleared of murder charges, makes headlines once again, this time as a hero."_

The article went on to describe the circumstances surrounding Hobson's heroics. Her brow furrowed as she read about how she had been spotted entering McGinty's with a folder in hand and an abrupt no comment. It also mentioned Toni's role in the Scanlon case.

"You can't expect me to believe that. Do you have some kind of connection at the Sun-Times? Someone who gives you sample copies or something?" Toni leafed through the paper, noting a couple of articles that described things that had supposedly happened in just the last few hours. She sat back, puzzled. The only one who even knew she was here was the animal control officer. Looking sharply, she said "How'd you get this, Hobson?"

Gary glanced up from the paper. "It comes every morning. With the cat."

Toni raised one eyebrow. "You have a_ papercat_?"

Gary nodded. "Uh, huh."

"Who brings you some kind of magic newspaper every morning?"

"That pretty much… pretty much it, in a nutshell."

"Oh, come on! It just doesn't make sense. Things like that don't happen!"

"You're right. It doesn't make sense." Gary sat back with a sigh, his gaze still on the paper in Toni's hands. "Hell, I've been telling myself that for four years now." He raised his eyes to Toni. "But it _is_ real and I have to deal with it every day."

"Deal with it? What do you mean?"

Gary waved his hand at the paper. "That thing. It's…it's not written in stone. You know how you read about the bad things that happen to people?" He looked at her earnestly. "It doesn't always have to happen. Not if I can change it."

Okay, now this was getting too weird. Toni stood up and, crossing her ams, took a few steps away from Gary. She had to think. This was all so…bizarre. If she had this right, Hobson got the Sun-Times, delivered by a cat, a day early. Then he changed things.

She couldn't be sure, but she thought she could detect the faint strains of the Twilight Zone music playing somewhere. Rubbing her temples, she decided it was only playing in her head. "So, let me get this straight. You go around like some kind of un-caped crusader, fixing as many bad things as you can?

Gary's mouth set in a firm line and he looked away.

She could see that he was pulling back, but what did he expect? If he had said something like he was a secret government agent, or that he was part of some kind of classified experiment, she would be less skeptical. Hell, he could have claimed he was really Marty McFly and he was back from the future and it would have been more believable.

Toni glanced down at the picture and then at Gary's arm. "So why didn't you change that?"

"But I _did _change it," Gary said, looking down at the article. "Listen, the little boy, he…he was going to be mauled. When I read the story this morning, it listed the boy in critical condition. He…he'd had chunks of flesh torn from his body." Gary shuddered. "I couldn't let that happen."

"So you let yourself be bitten instead?"

"I didn't _let _myself be bitten. I was hoping we would all get out of it okay. But, sometimes…" Gary's voice trailed off. When he looked up at Toni, she had to stifle a gasp at the raw pain in his eyes. "Sometimes things don't always work out."

She had a feeling he wasn't talking about the bite he had received. Maybe it was the look in on his face, or maybe it was the fact that, for the very first time since she had met him, she didn't see something evasive in his eyes. All she could see was truth and pain, and a faint flicker of hope that she would believe him.

She sat down in the chair opposite Gary but then he stood and crossed to the windows. He rested one hip on the ledge and stared down at the streets below.

If she thought about it, it made sense, in an odd sort of way. It would certainly explain a lot, that's for sure, Toni thought wryly. So, assuming it's all true, why would he do it?

Toni studied Gary. He didn't appear any different than any other man; two arms, two legs, eyes, a mouth and nose. They were arranged in a pleasing way, to be sure, but there was nothing extraordinary about him that would signal that he was special.

"How come _you_ get the paper?"

Gary half turned to look at Toni. Shaking his head, he shrugged. "I…I don't know." He turned back to the window. "Before me, it went to man named Lucius Snow. He was a typesetter for the Chicago Sun-Times and lived in the Blackstone Hotel. After Marcia and I separated, I moved there. Snow died just a few days before that. I got his old room." He stood and walked slowly towards the kitchen.

Toni followed a few steps behind. "So, you think it has something to do with that old hotel?"

Gary shrugged. "Maybe." He opened the fridge. "You want something to drink? I have juice, pop, and…" he dipped his head to get a better look, "a couple of beers."

Toni thought for second. "Just some juice." This evening's revelations probably called for a beer, but she wanted to keep her wits about her.

He grabbed the bottle of orange juice and a Coke for himself. He poured her a glass, then popped the top on his can, and took a long drink.

Taking the juice from Gary, Toni wandered to the kitchen table and sat down. "So, you do good things with this paper, Hobson?"

Gary was silent for a moment, looking beyond Toni, then shifted his gaze to her. "I try."

Toni cocked her head. "You know, you could probably make a fortune with it."

A small smile played around Gary's lips. "Sure, I could." He chuckled at some private thought. "But that wouldn't be right." He took another long swallow, then crumpled his can and tossed it into the trash. "Whoever is in charge of sending this paper didn't send it to me so I could become rich off it."

"No, I suppose not." Toni wondered at the feeling of…of what? Relief? She didn't think that was it, though she was certainly relieved that Gary's secret wasn't something horrible. In fact, it was incredible although she was still trying to understand it.

The feeling was more though. When she looked at Gary, it was like she saw him in a new light. The suspicions and uncertainties were gone. She felt almost giddy.

Toni took a sip of the juice and watched Gary as he crossed to the sofa. He looked totally wiped. She heard a small groan when he settled into his seat and rested his head against the back of the sofa, a throw pillow was held loosely in his lap. She was about to suggest that they continue this discussion tomorrow when Gary began speaking. His voice was quiet and she had to move closer to hear him.

"Snow, he…he died a lonely old man." He lifted his head and toyed with the edge of the pillow. "I don't wanna end up like that, ya know?" He didn't meet her gaze, just continued picking at couple of threads.

"Why would you end up like that?" Toni made a sweeping gesture. "You seem to have a ton of friends, the bar and your family."

Gary shook his head. "I realized during the last few days, that I only have a couple of _real_ friends. Marissa and Chuck. And…and you."

"Me?" Toni was stunned that he considered her in his close circle of friends.

Gary's gaze flicked to her. He shifted on the sofa. "You helped me when nobody else would."

"What about Miguel Diaz? He helped you too."

"That's true, but his motive was mainly getting the exclusive story. Though I know I owe him still, that's for sure. Toni, it's more than just how you helped me. I, ah, I guess I have feelings for you."

Toni felt her pulse quicken. She knew she had feelings for him too, but she was still worried. "What about my problem?"

Gary looked at her, his eyes wide. "I thought…I thought once you knew why I had to lie so much…you'd…you would undertand."

"Well, of course I understand about all that…now. But, I meant, aren't you worried that I could end up just like my dad?"

"How's that?" Gary looked at her in confusion.

Toni thought it was obvious. It was to her. "The other night, when you showed up in my kitchen, I should have turned you in. But, I didn't." She stood and turned her back to him, crossing her arms. After a long pause, she turned back, arms still crossed. "Don't you get it, Hobson? I not only let you go, I never even told anyone you were there. What kind of cop does that make me?"


	8. Chapter 8Conclusion

Gary sat forward and buried his face in his hands, elbows braced on his knees. This was getting to be one really weird evening. His arm was starting to throb something fierce and he hoped the painkiller would kick in soon. His thinking was getting fuzzy from a combination of the medication and exhaustion. He dropped his hands and glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was only about nine p.m. With all the confessions and revelations of the evening, it felt like few days, not a few hours, had passed since he had laid eyes on Toni downstairs in the bar. He thought that maybe they should deal with this problem another day, but one look at her changed his mind.

Toni's arms were crossed tightly and her mouth was set in a grim line. Gary went to her and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she averted her gaze. He could see the doubt still lingering in her eyes and raised her chin with his hand, encouraging her to look at him. "Listen, Toni, your dad, he made a mistake, but that doesn't mean that you're gonna make the same mistake he did." Her eyes welled up, and Gary felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest. "What you did is what the best cops do…you trusted your instincts, ya understand?"

"I don't know what I trusted. I just know that I should have called for back-up…or something." A tear escaped and started to spill down her cheek, and she swiped at it with the back of her hand, her eyes narrowed in anger. She turned her back to Gary.

"You're not a bad cop, Toni. You're as straight as they come." Unwilling to continue talking to her back, Gary circled around in front of her again. "Look at me."

She shook her head. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

"No! I'm not gonna leave you alone! Not if that means letting you think you did something wrong!" He put his hands on her shoulders and gave a little shake, causing Toni to look up at him. "'Because if you think you did, then what _should_ you have done? _Tell_ me, Brigatti! _Should you have shot me dead right there in the middle of your kitchen?"_

Toni flinched.

"Why _didn't _you shoot me, Toni?"

Without looking at him, she shrugged off his hands and strode to the windows.

Gary followed her but didn't try to touch her again. Her face was in shadow, but he could still make out the glint of tears in her eyes. Not wanting to embarrass her, he averted his eyes and looked out the window. He picked up the blinking lights of an airliner coming from the east on a path to O'Hare. He could just faintly see another one in line behind it and he knew that there would be another one after that in a never–ending stream.

Arms crossed once again, Toni gazed outside and slowly shook her head. "I've gone over it in my head about a thousand times in the last few days, you know. The whole Chicago P.D. was going wild trying to find the escaped murderer and there you were standing right next to my kitchen table as though you'd been invited to dinner." She smiled ruefully but continued to find the nightscape fascinating. "You were wanted, and I knew it, but it was like I was powerless." Toni took a deep breath. "I wish I could say that I _knew_ you were innocent. God knows, I told myself a million times that there was no way that the Hobson I knew could kill somebody in cold blood. But, after awhile, I didn't know if what I felt was real, or if I'd just convinced myself of your innocence. It was so confusing." She bit her lip and rubbed her hands up her arms if she were cold.

Gary had to suppress the urge to gather her in his arms. Instead, he just took a step closer and put his hand on her shoulder.

Toni jumped a little at the contact, but didn't look at Gary. "I had a dream last night. In it, I replayed that scene, but this time, I finished making my 911 call. Back-up arrived instantly. You kept telling them that you just wanted to sleep. So, Savalas…he…he smiled and said 'Good night, Hobson!' And then he shot you."

Gary started, his eyes shooting to Toni's. She was looking at him, her face wet with tears, then a sob escaped and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth, her other hand supporting her elbow. No power on Earth could have stopped him at that moment. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. "It was just a dream, Toni."

She stood stiff for a moment then finally melted against him, her body shaking.

He tucked Toni's head beneath his chin and stroked his hand over her hair and down her back. "Shhhh…it's okay." Repeatedly, he ran his hand up and down her back, feeling his gut clench at every stifled sob he felt shudder through her.

The paper had done this to her. If the cat had shown up at that moment, Gary wasn't certain he could trust himself not to kick the beast across the loft. He'd gotten somewhat used to the paper screwing up his life, but he still couldn't handle it when it messed with the people he cared about. "I'm so sorry, Toni."

Sniffling and then a muffled, "What for?"

"Because if it wasn't for me and this _damn_ paper, none of this would have happened." Gary clenched his jaw, feeling so tense he wouldn't be surprised if he cracked a molar.

He felt Toni stir and pull away a little bit. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but the tears had stopped, leaving only a faint dampness.

"What do you mean?"

"This whole thing started because Scanlon was going to do a story on me."

Gary stepped back, but hung on to Toni's hand. Seeing her swipe at her nose, he tugged her gently towards the bed and a carton of tissues on his bedside table. He handed her a couple.

She gave him a weak smile, sank onto the edge of the bed, and dabbed at her nose and eyes.

"I knew about the article but I didn't know what it was going to be about."

Gary sighed and sat next to her, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. "Scanlon, well, he'd gotten ahold of a file about me. You probably know that he came to me the day he was murdered." He slanted a glance at Toni.

She nodded, her eyes meeting his and questioning.

"He wanted me to answer some questions; basically, he wanted me to tell him how I always happened to turn up in the nick of time." Gary rubbed the back of his neck. "Of course, I couldn't tell him about the paper, so I just told him to have a nice day and escorted him to the door."

Toni turned, pulling one leg up on the bed, her knee bent.

"Later, the paper changed and a story about Scanlon's murder was on the front page. First, I urged Armstrong to put Scanlon under police protection. Then, I called Scanlon to warn him, but I only got his answering machine."

"So, that explains that." Toni shook her head. "You know, it made you look guilty as hell."

Gary shrugged. "Yeah, but at the time, I didn't think of that. Then the story in the paper didn't change, so I knew he hadn't listened to my message. I had to go to the train yard to try and stop it."

Toni sighed and shook her head. "That was a pretty dangerous thing to do."

"I know. Marissa tried talking me out of going but what else could I do? Let him be killed?"

"So, what happened? I mean, Scanlon was murdered anyway."

"The paper, it… it had the wrong time." Gary still felt a sense of betrayal about that. It just wasn't right.

"Would that be because the M.E., Arberthnot, falsified the time of death?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He hadn't known that detail, but now that he did, it made sense. More sense than a cosmic typo anyway.

Gary absently picked at the bandage on his forearm. The painkiller had kicked in, but even so, the events of the last five days suddenly seemed to be catching up with him. "When I got to the train yard, Scanlon was already dead. And that's when the cops came." Gary glanced briefly at Toni, noting that her eyes were dry and she seemed more relaxed. He shrugged and rubbed his hands together, leaning forward. "Well…you know the rest."

"Yes, I do. I want to apologize for the hell we put you through, Gary." Her sincerity resonated in the tone of her voice.

Gary took a deep breath, feeling a catch in his throat and not trusting his voice, spent several long moments studying the floor between his feet. He swallowed hard, then shook his head, remaining silent. He felt Toni's arm settle around his neck and then she tugged his head down to her shoulder. Her other arm wrapped around him, pulling him close. He closed his eyes, giving in to the emotion, feeling his eyes sting. He turned into her neck and took a long, shuddering breath.

Gary became aware of Toni's hands; one was rhythmically rubbing his shoulder, the other was gently skimming through his hair. The skin on her neck was silky and smelled faintly of a spicy vanilla. Her hair tickled against his cheek and her chin rested right above his ear; her breath tickling his neck

He brought his hand up, cupping the back of her head, her dark hair flowing like satin through his hands. Looking up, Gary's eyes locked onto Toni's. Her eyes were large and black and Gary wanted to dive into their depths. He sat up, pulling her closer with his other arm. He lowered his mouth to hers, seeing her eyelids flutter closed before his did the same.

He was lost in sensation. The tangy citrus taste from the orange juice lingered in her mouth and he had never tasted anything sweeter in his life. She had a hand on each side of his jaw, pulling him even closer and he responded, one hand slipping under her blouse to feel the smooth skin of her back. Her soft groan in response sent his heart racing and he leaned against her, sensing her easing back onto the bed. He traced kisses down her neck, stopping to taste her skin with quick flicks of his tongue.

Dragging his mouth away, he smoothed the hair away from her face. He had to make sure that she wanted this too. "Toni?"

Toni's eyes opened, her lids heavy, her breath coming in fast little pants. "What?"

"I want to make sure this is right for you." He lightly skimmed his hand over her jaw, unable to stop touching her. He searched her eyes, looking for any uncertainty or doubt.

Toni gave a half-smile and shook her head. Her voice husky, she pulled him down. "You better not stop now or--"

Gary grinned. "_Or what?_"


End file.
